


Reunions and Rendezvous

by Skalidra



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Canon Universe, Established Relationship, Family Reunions, M/M, Meet the Family, Minor Canonical Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27324994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: Dick doesn't think about it all that much when Kate forwards him an invitation to the Kane family reunion. With Bruce being her cousin, they always get an invitation, but this is the first time Dick's gotten one while he's been on his own. He happens to have the night open, so he decides to go, and then he gets distracted with more pressing matters (like the post-workout Slade walking into his bedroom). Turns out, though, there might be some unexpected things at that reunion.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 33
Kudos: 247
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020





	Reunions and Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> Also slightly late (again with the distractions) but in my defense I started putting this together before it turned midnight my time, so, I win. This is for Day 7 of SladeRobin Week, with the prompt 'Meeting the Family'. And there are many things I could say but for the sake of no-spoils I won't so, enjoy!

It's not a text. Not even a call actually. Kate forwards him an invitation in an email, addressed to the 'Wayne' family, with the actual list of their names in a little footnote on the bottom. Him, Bruce, Jason (that must be Kate's influence), and Damian, all with plus-ones attached. Presumably they got it too, or at least Bruce did. (Probably wasn't sent directly to Alfred, or they'd have known about it way before this.)

Kane family reunion. Tonight. Held in Gotham.

Dick rolls onto his back, staring at the invitation. Picture in an email. Kate must have taken a shot of it before she sent it off. Or had a copy? Doesn't matter. He should probably let her know whether he's going to go before it gets too close.

Could be fun. It'd be good to see Kate. Food's always good at these kinds of events, too, and he doesn't actually have any pressing cases right now. He could go, spend a few hours, then head back and have enough time to do an early morning patrol before he turns in. Just check in with everything, before he calls it a day.

Besides, he's kind of curious. He's never been to any kind of a specifically Kane-run event. He doesn't really know much of anything about them, other than the tidbits that Kate and Bruce have mentioned over the years. Military family, right? Kate's dad is a general? Theoretically he's got 'family' or something over there, as much as being Bruce's ward instead of being adopted makes him 'family' in that sense. Probably the closest he'd get to anyone would be cousins, anyway. Distant cousins.

"Something important?" a voice cuts into his thoughts, coming from across the room. Dick lowers his phone to his chest and looks over.

Slade's across the room, scrubbing a hand towel over the back of his neck but otherwise only wearing a pair of sweatpants with the tie undone, which leaves them resting dangerously low on his hips. Post-workout, looks like. Dick swallows, following the still damp lines of his chest (hair there darkened just a little from the sweat) all the way down to where the pants cut off the view. Not that he can't imagine, vividly, what's underneath.

He clicks his phone off. "Not that important."

Slade’s mouth curls into a lazy grin.

It’s predatory, how Slade slides across the room. Just dangerous enough to make all his years of instinct wake up, quickening his heart, adding a little sharp thread of adrenaline to his appreciation. He climbs onto the bed, bracketing Dick between the press of his arms, pressing a thigh in between his legs to force them open. He’s hot to the touch, still sweaty when Dick slides his hands over his chest, up along the hard curve of his back.

“What, were you benching my couch?” he asks, distractedly.

Slade chuckles. “Your couch wouldn’t be a challenge, little bird.”

Which isn’t an answer, but when Slade leans in to kiss him he finds he doesn’t really actually care what he was doing. Mystery for another time, when he isn’t caged in and possibly on the way to some really great sex. Slade grinds down into him, hand skimming down his side, clasping at his waist and tugging him up into it. Easy and familiar enough to bring a thigh up, press it to Slade's side and pretend like pulling him close will actually do anything if Slade doesn't want it to.

(He's in luck this time. Slade gives easily enough, leaning in and bearing him down into the bed, pressing with weight and breadth. Not quite a pin, but close enough to be thrilling.)

When Slade's mouth moves down to his neck, threatening to bite, Dick groans slightly regretfully and digs his nails into Slade's shoulders. "I've got a thing to do later."

It's not quite a warning, even though he sort of means it like one. Not like he can't hide hickeys with the right make-up, but it'd be nice if Slade was considerate for once and didn't make him do that. It's like a fifty-fifty chance, relatively speaking. Maybe Slade will hold back this once, or maybe knowing he's going somewhere will make him be a possessive asshole and leave even more. Hard to say with any certainty.

Slade makes a noise that sounds sort of like acknowledgement. "So do I."

Slade has a thing? It better not be a _thing_. "Slade…”

Slade goes back just a couple inches when Dick pushes, enough to look him in the eye. He's smirking, amused. "Relax," he rumbles, squeezes the hand on Dick's waist hard enough it aches. "Nothing you'd object to, little bird."

That's not exactly an answer, which Slade is perfectly aware of, and Dick knows it. 'Wouldn't object to' could mean nothing. Or a _lot_ of things.

" _Slade_ —” Dick starts again, this time making it a clear warning.

Slade cuts him off. "No death," he says, flashing a grin like he thinks it's _funny_ that he had to actually specify that. "Promise."

Dick studies him for a couple seconds, looking for any hint of a lie. Slade can be pretty unreadable, when he wants to be, but right now he's open enough. No deceit that Dick can see. He'd like to think that he's known Slade for long enough to know when he's lying, at least most of the time. He… probably isn't. He probably doesn't have to be worried.

"Alright."

Slade leans back into him without hesitation, back at his neck, down to his collarbone. Dick's eyes shut for a second, head tossing back as he sighs, letting the press of his palms to Slade's shoulders ease back to a loose grip. It’s a slow-burning kind of pleasure, sweeping out under his skin. Slade’s good at that. He’s good at fast, too. He’s good at everything.

Few hours, still. Take a shower, get dressed up, drive to Gotham… Yeah, he’s got plenty of time.

Dick groans softly, scraping his nails along the ridges of Slade’s shoulder blades. “How long do you have before you have to go?”

Slade repays the nails with a scrape of teeth on his shoulder, not _quite_ hard enough to leave a mark. “Long enough.”

* * *

It’s been a long time since he’s gotten all dressed up for something like this.

Dick adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves as he ascends the couple of stairs up to the hotel’s lobby, pulling up the invitation on his phone to double-check the information. Rented hall in the hotel, check in at the door, formal wear, catering, valet parking provided… A little lower key than most of the events that Dick’s been to in Gotham, but those were pretty much all Wayne events. Big and showy and with guest lists longer than he is tall. This should pretty much just be the Kane family.

Maybe he should have done some checking on exactly how many people are in the Kane family. Must be pretty big, if they’ve rented out a hall for it. Maybe Kate will just give him a cheat sheet when he gets in.

He flashes a smile to the receptionist as he walks up, asks, "Kane family reunion?"

She smiles warmly back and points in the directions of the elevators. "Go ahead and take one of those up to the second floor, then it'll be down the corridor to the right. There should be signs once you're up there."

"Much appreciated; thanks."

Dick heads in the indicated direction, letting the elevator take him up a floor and, sure enough, there are the signs. Mostly tasteful, big blocky letters, sparse on decoration. Very military looking, really. Kate was military, and so was her dad, as he recalls. Are they an... all military family? He can't remember for the life of him.

There's what looks like security at the doors. One guy, relatively nice suit but not _really_ nice, hands behind his back, eyes focused on him nearly the moment he steps into view. "Invitation, sir?" he asks, as Dick steps close enough.

"Sure." He pulls up his phone, goes to the email that Kate forwarded him and offers it out to the man. "Dick Grayson. I'm part of the Wayne invitation."

The man takes a look at the invitation, then checks a sheet of paper on a small podium to his right. Inclines his head after a moment. "There we are. Feel free to go on in, sir."

He pockets his phone and does just that.

Inside, there's a basic event set up. Dance floor, live band playing some soft music, tables and chairs spread around, open bar. At first glance, there's probably about seventy people in the room. Various ages, genders, and a _lot_ of military dress uniforms. Well, that answers his question, anyway. Yes, definitely a lot of military. Alright, he can handle that.

A quick glance around finds him the short red hair of Kate, standing out in sharp relief not just because of the dyed color, but because she's one of the few people not in uniform (and in a suit, as opposed to ninety percent of the other women in the room). She's got Renee standing next to her, too. That's a great place to start.

Dick swings by the bar first to grab a drink — bourbon, plain; he'll sip it all night and pretend he's had a refill at some point (thanks for that trick, Bruce) — and then heads her direction. He's still a good twenty feet off when Kate catches sight of him, in the passing sweep of her gaze, but she doesn't actually acknowledge that she has till he steps up to the little mini-group she and Renee are a part of. Then there's the smiles, the introductions, the quick explanation of who he is and exactly which family member he's riding in on the coattails of, and conversation resumes.

It's a familiar dance. He's been going to galas and events like this since he was a kid, and he's well acquainted with how to work them. He doesn't play the same kind of exaggerated role as Bruce does, but he does pull up a bit of a persona. Just enough to play up the more charming bits of his personality and obscure the darker bits. Just a young man, smart and handsome and driven enough to have the start of a career, but still riding on the fortune he's heir to at the end of the day.

He talks, lets himself get involved in conversation after conversation, wanders in and out of groups and gets acquainted with the various branches of the Kane family. It's just him, apparently. He didn't really expect Damian to show up, and Bruce's attendance is always questionable for non-public events like these. Jason's a wild card, frankly. He might show up just to mess with people, or hang out with Kate, but social things like this weren't his thing either, as Dick recalls. What little overlap they had attending stuff like this, anyway.

It's sort of nice, to just take a step back and relax. He was only roughly on time, so more people filter in and out. The band keeps up its gentle music. Dick's just coming back from a quick trip to the restroom when the apparently designated head of the event — Jackson Kane? He thinks? He's not sure of the relationship to Kate — gets up and announces that dinner is ready to be served, if everyone could take their seats.

His seat is apparently at Kate's table, two seats to the left from Renee out of the ten it seats. He sets his drink down, scoots in and sweeps a smile at the four people that have already found their little nametags and begun to sit down in time with him. The empty chair on his left scrapes back.

Dick turns his head to look up, and finds his words dying on his tongue.

"Sorry I'm late," a low, deep voice drawls, with the same rich amusement it had when it was whispering in his ear, earlier. "Had to make a stop on the way; took a little longer than I thought."

Scarecrow must have somehow picked this event to test a new toxin on because there is _no way_ that _Slade_ is actually the one taking the seat next to him, dressed up in full army uniform and sitting down as if he actually belongs here. He can't— No. No way. There is _no reason for Slade to be here._

"Kate, good to see you again."

He's pretty sure Kate nods, but he can't quite tear his gaze away from Slade's face so he mostly only hears the, "Slade. Glad you could make it," that she offers in answer. "You've met my girlfriend Renee, right?"

"Last year, yeah." And suddenly Dick finds himself the focus of the single blue eye, one corner of Slade's mouth curled up in the faintest of smirks. "Don't think I've been introduced to this one, though." The gaze flicks away briefly, with a, "Too good looking to be from your side of the family," before it's right back on him. "What's your name, kid?"

It's over a decade's worth of fast thinking and ground-in showmanship that lets Dick click into autopilot, offering his hand, a smile, and the same words he's been saying all night even as his brain continues its short-circuiting. "Dick Grayson. I'm Kate's second cousin, through Bruce Wayne."

'Hallucination' is rapidly shifting down his list of possibilities because the hand that shakes his is very undeniably Slade's hand. Big, calloused in all the right spots, and there's a quick little _squeeze_ to his palm that feels all too familiar before it lets go.

"Slade Wilson." The quickest flash of a grin, and the same predatory amusement that looked at him earlier. "If we're going through Kate, she's my sister."

Before Dick can fully implode at all the implications of that statement, Kate cuts in with a good-natured, " _Step._ And ex." Dick finally gets it together enough to look in her direction. She's smirking a little too, but he honestly can't even begin to tell whether she knows that _Deathstroke_ is sitting at a table at her family reunion.

Slade leans towards him slightly, lowering his voice in a pretend-whisper. " _Katherine_ likes to nitpick, but she still makes sure I get an invitation to these things."

"Well, I do still like my nephew, even if he had the misfortune of taking your name. Joey not coming tonight?"

She _has_ to. Surely Kate has looked at a file sometime and knows that Slade is Deathstroke. Surely she's fought him at… some point, right? It must have happened. It's not like Slade's identity is a big secret, it's just not something that's ever really been proven when it counts.

"Not that I know of. Busy with his new girlfriend, I think.”

“His new girlfriend… _Joey?_ ”

Slade inclines his head with a snort and leans back in the chair.

“Oh _wow_ ,” Kate says, shaking her head. “That must be going great.”

“ _Excellent_.”

It clicks in Dick’s mind, suddenly. Adeline. Adeline _Kane_. Holy shit Slade’s ex-wife is Kate’s _sister_. How is that something that he never knew?

…

Does _Bruce_ know?

A hand comes down on his thigh, and it's a miracle his flinch doesn't slam a knee into the bottom of the table. Fingers slide way higher than appropriate, under the edge of the tablecloth, and Dick has to strangle down something high-pitched before it draws attention. He bites down on his tongue, and doesn't react — _doesn't react_ — to the fingers caressing the crease of fabric at thigh and groin.

Slade looks down at him with a smirk, and the fingers squeeze. "So, why don't you tell me about yourself, _Grayson?_ "

He swallows.

God, he's so doomed.

* * *

Phones are nightmares.

Dick gropes blindly at the bedside table as the thing screams at him, lifting his head off the pillow just enough to find it and scrape his fingers along the wood till he gets it in hand. He squints at the screen, blinking blearily to try and read it. Luckily, all he actually needs to see is the big 'B'.

It takes him two tries to slide his thumb the right away to answer the call, before he drags it up to the side of his face. "H'llo?"

The arm around his waist contracts and drags him back, palm spreading big and warm over his stomach.

_"Have you seen the news this morning?"_

Dick's not going to say he's frowning, but his face definitely does… something. "No? What—?" He clears his throat, tries again a little less hoarse. "What time is it?"

_"Eight. I'm sending it to you."_

Eight in the morning. Jesus.

"Okay."

His phone chimes, way too loud and too close to his ear, and he groans softly and turns his head enough to open the text. Not a link, just an image. Headline on a website.

_'Wayne Heir Spotted with Older Unknown Military Man'_

His stomach drops a little, even before he looks at the actual picture below the headline. It's a shot of him last night, from the reunion. On the dance floor. With Slade.

Fuck.

He remembers that. Slade, after teasing and fucking with him all through dinner, acting like they'd never met before in their lives, had the gall to drag him out for a dance, too. A slow dance. Arm around his waist, the slow sway, the whole thing. Asshole.

There were some nasty looks from the room — lots of military, majority older generations, not surprising — but he didn't think anyone had taken a photo. He definitely didn't think anyone would be selling one to the news.

Slade's face isn't visible in the shot, just his, but the white hair and massive frame is pretty unmistakable if you know what he looks like. Military uniform is a hint, too, if you know his history.

What a uniform.

He swallows, thick and slow, at the memory. Broad shoulders, perfectly fitting slacks, the jacket cutting in on a perfect line to the inwards angle of his waist.

( _"Want me to leave it on, little bird?"_ )

He pulls the phone back to his ear, tries to force his brain to focus. "Okay."

_"Do you want to explain what that is?"_

There's a logical thought progression in his head. Went to Kane reunion, Slade was there, the dance, someone took a picture.

The only thing that actually comes out of his mouth is, "I feel like you should have told me that Deathstroke was your cousin."

There is a very weird, strangled sound over the line. Slade snorts up above and behind his head somewhere.

Dick buries his face in the pillow. "'s unfair to spring that 'n me," he mumbles, way more muffled now. "Was at Kane reunion. I'm gonna go back t' sleep."

_"Dick—”_

A hand plucks the phone out of his grasp and tosses it off to the side somewhere, down on the bed or… floor? He doesn't know. Hopefully Slade actually ended the call and didn't just throw it down there to let Bruce keep talking to himself.

“Talk to him later,” Slade rumbles, into the back of his neck. “Right now you’re mine.”

Maybe later he’ll complain. Remind Slade that he’s not owned. (Also, maybe yell at him some for all the bullshit last night.) Right now, though, he’s way too tired for all of that. Right now, he wants to just enjoy the early morning by sleeping through it, warm and comfortable and very much _asleep_.

He sighs, settling deeper into the bed. “Alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is not actually a canon thing, but I do find the idea amazing that Adeline Kane and Kate Kane are both from established military families and if they happened to be related this would technically make Slade and Bruce step-cousins. I think that's _hilarious_.
> 
> [You can find my Tumblr here!](http://skalidra.tumblr.com/)


End file.
